A Dark Walk
by multifandom0813
Summary: This is a Feysand modern AU. Feyre and Tamlin are at a party and the tool makes her walk back to her dorm alone. Rhys steps in and offers to go with her. This is my first time publishing fanfiction, constructive criticism is very welcome. There's potential in this story line so I might make additional chapters, but who knows. I'm only rating it M for the language as of right now.
1. Chapter 1

Trap music blared from the speakers as Feyre wove her way through the throng of people past them. The last time she had seen Tamlin he'd been… yes, there he was. She edged her way to the front of the crowd surrounding the beer pong table where Feyre's boyfriend was guzzling his drink.

"Tamlin!" she shouted over the noise. He finished off his beer and slammed it down on the table to the thunderous approval of those watching. It appeared he hadn't heard her so Feyre shouted again, " _Tamlin!_ "

This time he swiveled his head and his eyes, finally, focused on her. He told his partner, Lucien, to keep playing and stumbled over to his girlfriend.

"Hey, babe! How s'it goin'?" Tamlin slurred when he reached her.

"I should get back to the dorm, Tam. That exam tomorrow is early."

"'S fine, Feyre. After this round, we'll go." He planted a messy kiss on her cheek. Gently Feyre pried Tamlin away from her. Tamlin frowned and asked, "Wha's the matter, babe?"

"It's just that… these games take a while and I really should be going – "

"We'll make it, it'll be fine. Jus' watch."

Feyre sighed in exasperation. "Tam, it's one in the morning, I'm already pushing it."

"Then walk by yourself. It's only a few blocks." His voice took on a slight edge showing his dimming patience with their conversation.

She froze, hoping the expression of horror and the pause would help him think through what he just said. "Babe," Feyre continued slowly, "you know I can't do that."

"Why not? You have two feet." Now he was getting irritated. She took a step back.

" _Tamlin._ "

"I'm not having this argument right now." He started going back towards Lucien. "Stay or don't, I don't care."

It was like a slap in the face. Feyre stood there slack-jawed and completely dumbfounded. Everyone knows what happens on college campuses at night when a girl tries to walk home alone. With a click she closed her mouth and pressed her lips into a hard line. Even drunk, Tamlin knows better. He knows she can't leave without him and is using it to stay as long as he wants. Feyre whipped around and slid her phone out of her pocket. She can't stay, so she was walking with or without Tamlin. And because of their little spat, Feyre thought she could safely assume it was without him. While she began dialing her sister, Nesta's, number so she could talk to someone while she walked she went over all of the self-defense videos she had watched.

Right when she was about to press the call button a voice stopped her. "Hey, Feyre." She turned to find Rhysand. "Look, I don't want to sound like a creepy stalker. But I just overheard the argument you had with your boyfriend. If you want someone to walk you back to your place, I'd be happy to."

Rhysand and Feyre were actually pretty good friends. They sat next to each other in class, shared notes, even studied for exams together. In fact they had studied together that afternoon. And it was even for the test she had the next morning. The one Tamlin, apparently, didn't care whether she passed or failed. Feyre thought he was a decent guy. But she was still hesitant.

"That's very nice of you, I'm just not sure it's a great idea."

"It's on my way. And you really shouldn't be going alone."

This was true enough. They often passed each other on the sidewalk headed to class. Occasionally they would walk together. Besides he really was a great guy and she really didn't want to go alone…

"Ok," Feyre agreed, "Lead the way."

Together they walked out and let the music fade behind them. Soon the only sounds were passing cars, cicada buzzing, and crunching leaves. But the silence was louder than anything.

"Lovely weather we've been having." Feyre eventually blurted out.

Rhys snorted. "Small talk? Really?"

"Well, you weren't saying anything." She shot back defensively.

"Touche." He conceded holding his hands up, "What should we talk about?"

Feyre pondered for a moment then asked, "Do you go to parties a lot?"

"Not really big ones like that most of the time. But I guess, yeah." Rhys shrugged.

"Then why did you come to this one?"

"My friends brought me. They thought it would be a fun change of pace."

"Who are-?"

Rhysand cut her off, "So many questions, Feyre darling."

She set her jaw. "Is that a problem?"

Rhys chuckled at the irony of her asking yet another question. "You asked three questions. Now I get to ask three questions. Deal?"

She mulled it over for a second then nodded. "Shoot."

"How did you and Tamlin meet?"

Simple enough. "We worked together. It started off as just flirting. Soon we started talking on the phone and outside of work, texting sometimes. Then he took me on a date and well…" Feyre let her sentence trail off awkwardly. She didn't know why she'd given so much detail.

As if sensing her embarrassment Rhys just nodded and moved on. Thankfully he changed the subject. "Why did you pick your major?"

Relieved, Feyre launched into her story. "I'm an art major." He nodded like he already knew. For all Feyre knew she'd told him and forgotten about it. "At first I just doodled when I was bored. My notes and homework were always covered in them. When I realized how much fun I was having I kept going outside of school. I would watch videos look at sketches. The next year I took a class and didn't look back. Soon it was all I could think about. I knew if I did anything else with my life it would be a disappointment."

When she finished Feyre glanced over at Rhys nervously, half expecting him to have the bored, glazed over look Tamlin gets when she talks about her art. Instead she found him gazing at her with fascination and awe.

His full lips turned up into a delighted smile. "You're so passionate about it."

Feyre nodded, feeling her face heat, suddenly abashed. "Yeah, Tamlin doesn't always get it. He thinks I'm good and that art is fine and all… but he doesn't understand what I want to do with it, how it can be more than just a hobby. He doesn't see it the way I do."

Without realizing it her voice had dropped to a whisper. Rhys was smart enough not to tug on that thread.

"So, what's your… what's it called? Medium?"

Giggling Feyre said, "Very good, you know your art lingo." Rhys made a small offended noise but she continued. "I like to paint. When I was in high school I found it and never looked back."

Feyre began going on about painting. Anything that came to her head. After a solid five minutes she expected Rhys to get bored or change the subject. But he listened and even engaged with her, asking questions to turn it into a discussion. Unfortunately they were very rudely interrupted.

On the corner a group of very drunk men stood and hooted obscenities at Feyre. "Damn boys, check out that ass." "Ooh, the things I'd do to you girl." "What that mouth do?"

In an instant Feyre had forced her face into blank neutrality like she was looking past them If it had been just one man during the day she would've told him exactly what he could do to himself. But even with Rhysand there she felt too threatened to do anything but get away. She felt him bristle and edge closer to her.

They must've been truly wasted, or really dumb, because one of them had the nerve to reach out and grab Feyre's wrist, pulling her to a halt. "Come on, baby, don't be like that. Let me take you home and show you things this little boy never could."

Before Rhys could do anything Feyre had released herself from the man's grip the way she remembered from the self-defense videos.

"I am _not_ your baby," she snarled, "I am a grown woman that deserves to be treated with respect. So you can take that hand, and your disgusting offer, and shove it up your ass."

She stormed away with Rhys right behind her, a dull roar in her ears. At Feyre's paced they reached her building in a minute or two. Outside the door she halted and dug through her jacket pockets in search of her key. When she found it she looked up at Rhys to say good bye and saw that he was nearly as furious as she was.

"Does that happen a lot?" he asked in a dangerously quiet voice.

Feyre gave him a rueful smile. "Not always that physically. But yes."

A muscle in Rhys' jaw feathered. "It's disgusting. At least you didn't seem to need my help. Thank god you can defend yourself."

"I'm still glad you were there," she said tightly, imagining what could've happened, "It might've been worse if you hadn't been."

At that Rhys went utterly still. "Good thing I was there then."

She bobbed her head. "Well, we still have that exam tomorrow. I'll see you then."

"See you then," she turned to leave but stopped when he added, "Feyre, if you ever need someone to walk with, don't hesitate to call."

When she turned back to face him Feyre found him waiting. "How about tomorrow morning? We can grab coffee or something before the test."

Tensions seemed to ease from his broad shoulders as Rhys nodded. "Sounds like a plan. Good night, Feyre."

"Good night, Rhys."

With that Feyre ducked inside her building and Rhys continued on his way.

The next morning they met up outside a local coffee shop. Feyre ordered her tea and Rhys his coffee. When he reached over the counter to retrieve their drinks she noticed that scrapes and bruises graced his knuckles. Absentmindedly thanked the barista.

When he handed Feyre her cup she asked, "What the hell did you do to your hand Rhys?"

He held it up and examined it like he was just now noticing the damage. A sly smile on his face, Rhys looked over at her. "You didn't think I'd let that 'little boy' comment slide, did you?"

Feyre doubled over laughing and Rhys threw his head back and joined in with her. They walked down the street together, teasing one another and overall acting like lunatics. She never mentioned that she saw on his face the real reason he went back to confront those men.


	2. Chapter 2

For the past weeks, ever since that night, Feyre and Rys had made their morning walk a routine. Even on days they didn't have class together. And on weekend mornings they met up and studied over breakfast. It had been weeks since their exam. When Feyre checked her grades she practically shrieked. Her roommate, Ianthe, was less than pleased.

"Really, Feyre," the blonde bombshell snapped, "It's not even eight in the morning. What could possibly be so exciting?"

Feyre ignored the theology major. She didn't like the girl. And she liked even less that she hit on every guy she saw. Which wouldn't bother her at all if that didn't include Tamlin. On the surface Feyre acted like it didn't bother her. That she was secure enough in herself and her relationship to not mind harmless flirting. And she would be, if she didn't catch them eye-fucking each other anytime they thought no one was looking. Ianthe was ridiculously beautiful but Feyre hoped Tamlin would at least have the decency to break up with her before anything went down between the two of them. Feyre blinked. She had considered Tamlin breaking up with her a little _too_ casually. Thankfully she sneezed before she could think too much about it.

 _Probably just allergies,_ Feyre thought before shrugging it off.

She glanced down at her grades and remembered the past minute before her train of thought had left the station. Feyre sprang out of bed. After running into the bathroom she took a shower in record time. Most likely because she skipped washing her hair. Normally she would have taken her time doing her makeup. It was another medium of art and Feyre loved it. But today she barely had the patience to curl her already curly fringe of lashes. Impatiently she yanked her brush through her second day hair and sloppily tied it into a top knot. After a glance at her reflection Feyre deemed it good enough. She wriggled into the skinny jeans she'd worn yesterday, a clean white t-shirt, a flannel, and a leather jacket. As she stuffed her feet into her boots Feyre realized she had put on the most basic and typical fall outfit. Whatever. It was cute. She was late. Not to mention she felt like a Winchester. In fifteen minutes flat Feyre was out the door.

As she barreled out onto the sidewalk Rhys was strolling out of his building.

"Rhys!" she called to him, waving.

He spotted her and gave Feyre that dazzling, mega-watt smile he always gave her. Her heart leaped. Feyre couldn't wait to tell him. She could heel her own smile stretching across her lips making her cheeks ache. They jogged over to the bench they met by every morning.

"Someone looks especially sunny this morning," Rhys drawled.

Feyre bounced on her toes unable to contain her excitement. "Aren't you curious as to _why_?"

"Please enlighten me." Amusement dripped off of him as he waved a hand in a gesture for her to continue.

Usually Feyre would've rolled her eyes, made a witty comeback, or just teasingly slapped his arm. But she was so eager to tell him she hardly noticed his borderline sarcasm.

"I got a 93 on that composition test!" she blurted out.

Rhys beamed. "That's wonderful, Feyre darling!"

Unbenownst to him it truly was wonderful. Feyre has struggled with dyslexia her whole life. There were ways to make her life easier but her struggle was still very real. And it didn't make her dread English classes any less. She hadn't told anyone, not even Tamlin. Only her family knew. Feyre thought this class would be hell until she met Rhys. Honestly she had no idea what about him made her burden lighter. Maybe it was the way he always seemed to read out loud, his patience when they weren't on the same spot, how he never questioned or pushed her like her tutors had, or when he explained eloquently the concepts she was too frustrated and tired to grasp.

All of that flitted across Feyre's mind in an instant. Without hesitation she threw herself into Rhysand's arms. His muscled body was tense under her touch. Unsure of what to do or what was happening. When Feyre didn't let go he relaxed and wrapped her into an embrace.

After a few seconds she released him. As he slid his hands into his pockets, Feyre could have sworn there was disappointment on his face. If Feyre was honest wither herself she felt it too. Tamlin almost never hugged her. Or held her hand. They only cuddled if he intended for it to go somewhere. His touches were always sexual or intentional. Never for the simplicity or comfort of just _touching_ each other. Feyre missed having that.

"What do you say? How about a celebratory breakfast?" she suggested.

"I could eat."

Like a gentleman from an old movie Rhys offered Feyre his arm. She rolled her eyes but looped hers through it with a chuckle.


End file.
